


this is the last time.

by yourealoverimarunner



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: F/M, Mid-Season Finale, Swooning, dandy kiss, the national, this is the last time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourealoverimarunner/pseuds/yourealoverimarunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on the perfection that was the dandy kiss (/swoons/) and also the song, "this is the last time", by the national. i'll probably cap at 3 chapters but i'm not going to make any promises. reviews are welcomed- hit me with your best. </p><p>update: i did not stop at 3. but you can count. you're smart & nice.</p><p>i don't own anything about TMP. pssssssh i couldn't even handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1

_|don't tell anyone i'm here_

_i got tylenol and beer_

_i was thinking that you'd call somebody closer to you_

_oh, but your love is such a swamp_

_you're the only thing i want_

_and i said i wouldn't cry about it_

_this is the last time.|_

He can't believe how dramatic this all is. The rain, the thunder, the strong bourbon swishing around in the glass.

The silence.

Not that he's not used to the quietude. Ever since his ex-wife moved out- hell, even while she was there and long before she even arrived- he lived a relatively simple, quiet life. He lived in routine: wake up, workout, head to work, come home, have a glass of the most available alcohol, sleep, repeat. Routine kept his thoughts in order, kept him on a straight path. Routine is faithful, unyielding, dependable.

It's also relatively boring.

It's lacks color, vibrancy, it's fucking dull- something he would not have even noticed until  _she_  introduced those things into his life. He chuckles to himself and takes another sip of the brown liquor in the glass. This whole thing, all of this reminiscing, thinking about feelings, Oprah-Dr.-Phil-yadda-yadda-yadda bullshit feels like a scene out of one of those pathetic romantic comedies she's always forcing him to watch. He can't help but to find some humor in this moment. This is what his life has become. Drinking more than his fair share of spirits, pining over an unrequited love, trying to erase memories. It's all so... Shakespearean. Sad. Pitiful. Ridiculous.

He downs the last of his drink and slams the glass down on the table in front of him. He's getting up. No one ever got anywhere sitting and wallowing in their sadness. Maybe he'll go workout or head into the office to do some paperwork or something- anything to get his mind off of his pathetic situation. The key is to get back into routine, and that's just what he'll do. Boring or not, routine is reliable and it doesn't go running back to its shitty ex-boyfriend and it doesn't pretend like it never kissed you back and it doesn't act like the feelings aren't mutual.

He pushes himself off of his couch and starts to make his way across his apartment to his bedroom. He's halfway there when a knock at his door stops him in his tracks.

*

_What am I doing?_  She leans forward and places her head on the nearby wall, banging it softly. She takes a big inhale and exhales, resuming a standing position. Now would be an excellent time for Beyonce Pad Thai to step in, for her inner warrior to kick into gear, because right now, she feels like everything is crumbling around her and she's useless to stop it all.

Jesus. Why did he have to kiss her like that? Why did he have to open a door that she thought she'd never have to open, a door she thought she had put the tightest lock on? Why did he have to help her write that letter to Cliff? Why did he have to say all of those things and mean them, and why did she miss all the freaking signs? Why, why, why? Frick.

She kicks the wall lightly and sighs. Her boots are ruined from the rain, and it just reminds her that everything sucks. Seriously, everything leading up to this moment had literally fallen apart; nothing had gone according to plan, if even there was one.

After they landed, everything between her and him had quickly turned awkward. Once they were in the airport, she had rushed to baggage claim, secured her luggage, found a cab and then headed home, leaving him somewhere in the airport. Hell, even after the thing, they hadn't spoken. They just sat there in silence, her staring out of the window, and him pretending to read some random magazine. She could feel him look at her occasionally, felt him wanting to say something, but just turning back to whatever lame article he was feigning interest in.

She hadn't even turned her phone on until she was safely inside of her apartment, and the minute she did, she regretted it. She had 32 text messages and several voicemails. Most of them were from Cliff wondering when she was landing and if she wanted to meet and telling her he wanted to talk, but one voicemail was from  _him._

_"Hey Min. Mindy. It's.. me. I just wanted to say... I don't- I don't know. Just... like you ran out so fast and we didn't really have time to talk and.. yeah. That's actually the most exercise I've ever seen you do in a while."_  He chuckles and lets out a sigh, and she finds herself doing the same.  _"Sorry Umm.. yeah. Just call me when you get this."_  And then it ends. She checks her messages and sees his most recent text to her:

_You should fix things with Cliff._

And that's how she finds herself outside of his apartment. And boy, did she have some words for him. She straightens herself up and approaches his door, letting out a breath, and then she knocks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another installment for "this is the last time". leave me your pretty little comments.

 

 

_|i know this changes everything_

_it takes a lot of pain to pick me up_

_it takes a lot of rain in the cup_

_baby, you gave me bad ideas_

_baby, you left me sad and high|_

  
  


He's frozen in place, waiting for another knock, to make sure he isn't dreaming. A harder, louder one places him back into reality. He debates answering for a moment, but then hears her voice ring out from the other side of the door. "Danny, open up. I know you're in there, I can practically smell the whiskey out here." He sighs and then heads to the door. He places his hand on the handle.

 

*

She knocks for a third time, and places her forehead on the door. What if he's not home? The whole whiskey line was a shot in the dark and she was hoping it was going to cause a rise in him enough to come to the door, but here she is, still on the outside. She pulls out her phone and dials his number. She hears it ring from the inside and she places her ear on the door.

 

*

He pulls his phone from his pocket and sees her name flash across his screen. He knows she already heard it ring, so instead of opening the door, he answers the phone and slumps against one of the many other things keeping them apart.

"What?"

"Well hello to you too, grumpy pants."

"What do you want?"

"Daniel. Are-- are you standing on the other side of the door talking on the phone to me when you know I'm on the other side?"

"It's bourbon."

"...What?"

"I'm not drinking whiskey, I'm drinking bourbon."

She laughs lightly, and his stomach clenches a little.

"Are you seriously not going to let me in?"

Silence.

"Danny, it's like you want me to make a scene out here. You know I will. I've seen enough Meg Ryan movies to know when to make a scene and this hallway of yours is like the perfect setting. I'll do it. I'll go full on West End out here--"

"Calm down."

"Open the door then."

He goes to pull the door open but stops.

He can’t.

He knows if he opens the door, he’s going to see her face and he’s going to remember what it was like to have her pulled flush against his body, kissing her, touching her, _needing her_ , and he’s going to remember that she left him- she ran from him, abandoned him- and he just can’t. He knows he’ll see her and it’s going to hit him like a ton a brick that she rejected him. She ignored his texts, ignored his calls, ignored his feelings, and...  It’s one thing to be alone and it’s quite another thing to be lonely, and he’d rather be by himself than to feel lonely again, and that’s exactly what he’ll feel if he opens that door and she tells him that they’ll never be anything more than friends. He can’t take that, it would end him.

He swallows hard and slumps against the door, his phone still pressing hotly into his ear. “I... I can’t,” he finally musters.

“What? What are you talking about? Danny, just open the door please, I feel like an idiot standing out here, talking to you both on the phone and through the door.”

“You don’t think I feel that way too?” he spits back, a bit harsher than he intends to. There is a pause on the other end and for a moment he’s worried that he actually may have hurt her feelings, which is the last thing he wants. He just wants... he wants to...

“Danny,” she lightly answers back. Her voice has changed: it’s lower, less frantic, softer. He’s never heard it like that before, and honestly it makes him a tad nervous. He hears her sigh and then continue on. “Danny, please talk to me. What..what do you mean?  What did you mean by that, me not thinking you feel that way too? What does that mean?”

He runs a hand over his face and closes his eyes. _It’s now or never, Castellano. You tell her now while the door is closed and you have the space and opportunity._ Opening his eyes and staring straight ahead, he clears his throat and speaks.

“You don’t think I feel like an idiot, Min? I mean... you ran. You ran away from me at the airport and you didn’t say a word. You were just gone.” She goes to speak, “Danny, listen--” but he cuts her off again, trying to keep his momentum. “No, Mindy, just... let me finish. Just let me say all this now while I have the courage.” He can hear her audibly acknowledge his request with a breath, followed by some noise on the other end, like papers being moved around or something.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sitting on the ground. I mean, you’re not going to let me in, so I might as well get comfortable out here. I’m also taking my boots off  right now so I look like the hobo of the fourth floor, just so you know.”

He smiles a little, and decides to also sit on the ground.

“Are you going to finish what you had to say?” She asks after getting settled. He request is soft yet firm. “I’m all ears, Castellano.”

“Yeah”, he answers back after a moment, picking at some lint on his pants, and then refocusing. “Mindy.. I...”

“...Yes?”

“I... I don’t want to ruin this. I don’t want to ruin us. Look at how long it took us to get to this point- for us to tolerate each other, to become friends, to get close. I cherish that, I do. And I feel like--I feel like I really messed up. I mean, the way you reacted afterward... I just thought...” He trails off a bit, feeling emotion rising up in the back of his throat. At this moment, he wishes that bottle of bourbon was right next to him to not only drink from but also to give him some liquid courage. He clears his throat once again and presses on, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the wood. “You know when you got up to go refreshments from the back, there was that turbulence, right?”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“Well, I remember gripping the armrest between us and realizing that your hand wasn’t there. You weren’t there, and... I-- I didn’t like it.”

She chuckles on the other end of the line. “That’s why you kissed me? Because of the turbulence?”

“No. I mean, yes and no. After it passed, I remember thinking how the last time we were together on a plane, there was also a little bit of turbulence, and that time we held each others hands and that...”

“And that what?”

“You know... if we had crashed at that moment, I woulda died a happy man.”

She exhales, and it’s a bit shaky and he’s glad he’s not the only nervous one.  “Danny, what are you saying? Just tell me.”

He swallows and opens his eyes, a moment of verbal clarity settling upon him.

“Mindy... I can’t live without you.”

And... _silence_.

He doesn’t hear her breathe or move, and he checks his phone to make sure they aren’t disconnected and then speaks. “Mindy?”

“I’m here.”

“Did... did you hear what I said?”

“...Yes.”

He stands and moves away from the door, turning to look at it. Even with a whole door in between them, he still feels way too close to her. It’s been quiet for too long, and he can feel himself begin to panic, and he knows he should calm down but he can’t. Is she thinking about leaving? Is she going to run again? What’s going on out there?  Maybe not opening the door was a bad idea. That was dumb. _Good freaking job, Castellano. I mean, what kind of idiot doesn’t have this kind of conversation face-to-face?_ He’s a coward. Christ, what was he thinking. How far to the ground if he just jumps out the window right now---

“Danny,” she calls out, and he freezes in his spot. _Play it cool, Castellano._

“Yeah?”

“You’re... in love with me?”

He lets out a breath he doesn’t even know he’s holding and it comes out like a laugh. A revelation. He smiles.

“Yes, Mindy. I am in love with you.”

He can hear her sniffle over the phone, and it breaks him from his spot. “Mindy, Min, please don’t cry. I’m opening the door--” he moves toward the door quickly before her voice stops him.

“No, don’t open it!”

“Mindy, I can’t just leave you out there crying, my neighbors are going to think I kicked you out or something, and then I’ll be the fourth floor asshole. Come on, just let me let you in.”

“No Danny! Please. Just-- just let me.. let me say something first.”

He releases his hold and sighs. “Fine. Okay.”

She takes a moment and he can hear her sniffle more, and it’s killing him. He just wants to let her in, he doesn’t even care if she doesn’t feel the same about him as he feels about her, he just wants to open the door and pull her in, wrap her in his arms because he can’t stand the thought of her standing outside alone crying, or the thought of him being the cause of her tears.

“Min, please, just let me--”

“I’m in love with you too.”

He feels like the air has just been knocked out of him. He can’t breathe, he can’t--

“W--what?”

“I’m in love with you too. I am in love with you too, Danny.”

  
  
  


_|we were so out of our minds_

_we were so under the brine_

_we were so vacant_

_when i lift you up, you feel like a hundred times yourself_

_I wish everybody knew, what's so great about you|_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bless the lord for Calliope_Soars (the-omniscient-narrator.tumblr.com), bless her soul. she is literally so great i can't stand it.
> 
> also thank you all so much for reading and leaving your comments and bookmarking, etc. like i am truly so overwhelmed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some tasty times. not quite smut but you know... /you know/.

She's going to pass out right here in the hallway. She's going to hyperventilate and just give herself a panic attack or an asthma attack and even though she doesn't have asthma, she needs an inhaler or something because  **she is going to pass out**.

Danny Castellano is in love with her.

Danny Castellano is in love with her, Mindy Lahiri.

She can't.

"Mindy." His voice breaks her out of her pre-panic attack and she stands up quickly, shaking her head.

"Yeah?" she responds, choosing now to lean against the wall, because if she doesn't get something to support her she is definitely going to tip over.

"Min... can I open the door now?"

She inhales and exhales a bit, trying to get some air into her lungs. "Yes. Yeah, you can open it." She hears it unlatch and slowly, it swings wide and he steps out. She closes her eyes, takes a few breaths and then opens them again, and he's standing right in front of her, and she can smell the bourbon on him but she can also smell something else... _that damn cologne of his_. Dark and musky and woodsy and so specifically him and she feels like she's going to pass out again, but she simply takes another breath and looks up at him. He's grinning that lopsided grin of his, and her knees go weak a little.  _Thank God for this wall._

"Can I hang up now?" he jokes, the phone still pressed to his ear. She nods, and presses end on her phone as well, sliding it into the pocket of her jacket. She watches as he deposits his phone into his back pocket and then stands in front of her, arms crossed against his chest.

"So..." he begins.

"Sooooo."

"That was...a lot."

She giggles. "Yes."

"I hope you're not too upset about me leaving you out here in the hallway. It's just that... you know. I..." He trails off and looks down for a bit and then back up to her, trying to read her face.

"No, I get it," she responds, trying to take some of the weight off of his shoulders. She truly does. Danny's not the most vocal person when it comes to his feelings. He's not like her, willing to tell everyone at the drop of a dime how she feels about any and everything. That's not to say he hasn't given his opinion before (especially when it's not needed), but she knows this time is different. The atmosphere is changed and something has shifted between them and they've moved past being friends and upgraded to...  _something else_. And while it's freaking terrifying not knowing what that something else is, it's also a kind of... exhilarating. She feels like a huge anchor has been lifted off of her chest and that thought alone makes me her smile a little. He catches her grin, and mirroring it, steps a little closer to her.

"What are you thinking?", he asks, his voice taking on a lower tone. She watches him unfold his arms and he reach for her hands, and she tenses a bit, but once he threads his fingers through hers she relaxes into his touch.

"I'm thinking..." she exhales, "I'm thinking about how happy I am."

"Yeah?" He brings her knuckles to his lips and kisses them delicately.

"And I'm also thinking that I was right."

He laughs. "You were right? What does that mean? What were you right about?"

"You're obsessed with me and you definitely harbor some unlamplike feelings towards me."

She watches a smile spread across his face, and he lets out another warm laugh that makes her stomach flutter just a bit. "Yes, you are right," he answers, moving in closer to her so that he's pressed further into her and she's pressed further into the wall. He brushes a stray hair from her face and allows his fingers to softly caress her cheek, eyes lingering on hers. "I admit to both those things." He leans closer into her and lightly ghosts his lips against hers, not fully engaging in the kiss she wants, but he's gentle and she can feel the heat radiating from him and she loves it. It reminds her of the moment he took after he first kissed her on the plane, because it's things like this that she's never had in past relationships: that full investment in not only her but in them. She wonders if that's what they're in now -a relationship- and suddenly a panic hits her. Oh God. What does this mean for their friendship? What about when they get to work? What do they tell everyone? Everyone's going to have so many questions that's she's not going to have any answers to and she hasn't even oh my god  _she hasn't even talked to Cliff yet_ , what is she supposed to tell him, wait she wasn't prepared for this, she's actually kind of terrified right now, what is-

"Min. It's kind of hard to kiss you when your mind is going a thousand miles an hour."

She opens her eyes, not even remembering closing them, and looks at Danny. All this thinking about investment and she's not even here with him right now in this moment that has changed both of them. "Sorry," she whispers sheepishly, leaning her cheek into his palm and sighing.

"I'm sorry, I'm just kind of all over the place right now. I mean...Danny, what are we-"

She's cut off from her thought by his lips again and her mind goes blank in a delicious kind of pleasure. He lays a few more kisses on her lips and then pulls back to look at her again. "Look, I know you have questions", he says, placing his forehead on hers and rethreading their fingers, "but is it possible to put them off for maybe a few hours? I mean, I'm giving you a full on romantic comedy moment here, please let's not ruin it with questions."

A smile peeks through. "A few hours? You're pretty sure of yourself there, Castellano."

"Is that all you got from my statement?" he chuckles, leaning in to kiss her again, this time deepening it, causing her to pull him tighter against her by his t-shirt. Before they both know it, he's lifting her legs around his waist, picking her up and moving her into his apartment. "Wait, my boots," she breathes out, the statement stuck somewhere in between a moan and whimper. "I'll buy you new ones," he replies, slamming the door behind him.

*

 _Hi, yes. Is this thing on? Hello all. My name is Dr. Mindy Lahiri and I would like to interrupt your day for just a moment to chat about Danny freaking Castellano. Yes, where to begin. Ah, of course. Firstly- that hours thing? It is not a lie. We have not been bamboozled, nor mislead. In fact, we can not be any closer to the truth. I have some wonderful pain in my lower region that can attest to this, dear citizens, and let me tell you a thing_ -

"Mindy, how is it that I can hear you talking even when you're silent?"

"Umm, excuse you rude, I was just doing some early morning internal monologuing, and it was about you, so settle down there old man."

She opens her eyes and shifts herself under the arm he has wrapped around her waist to see Danny's face mashed into a pillow. It's a beautiful sight to behold: his hair mussed all over his head, his eyes closed, his upper body delightfully nude and his lower half ( _sigh_ ) wrapped in a sheet. He looks calm, well-rested- almost like a little boy- and she can't stop herself from reaching out and running her digits through his hair. This causes him to tighten his hold around her, and she feels a shiver run down her spine as he runs his fingers softly across the smooth plane of her back. "You were talking to yourself about me?" he wonders, eyes still closed, which doesn't stop him from moving closer to her and placing his head just under her chin. "What did you say?" he mumbles into her chest. She continues her ministrations through his hair and smiles.

"I'm not going to tell you."

"It's not like I haven't heard you narrate before."

"Yeah but those narrations were pretty PG compared to these."

She can feel him smile against her collarbone and then lay kisses from there all the way up her jaw and across to her ear before placing one on her lips, and for once she doesn't mind the morning breath (that much) of the man lying in the bed next to her (she had to force Casey to get up and brush before any morning activities, she couldn't do it with him). She lets herself be fully enveloped in the kiss, which quickly turns passionate, as his hand moves from her lower back up to her her neck, where his fingers twist into her hair. As their kiss deepens, she allows herself to be immersed in a pleasure she hasn't felt in such a long time- not since the plane at least- and when he rolls her over onto the mattress, him flush on top of her, knee parting her legs, she's sure his touch is going to send her bursting into a trillion little stars- a thought that makes her heartbeat speed up just a little more.

*

This is all he's ever wanted. This moment right here: her, writhing underneath his palms, his lips on hers capturing all of her sounds, his body crushed against her skin. He would be lying to himself if he said he have never dreamed about it- _fantasized_  about it- and he doesn't have it in himself to start telling lies now, especially when it comes to his feelings about her. All he can do is focus on the here and now of it all: her wrapped around him, him touching every available part of her. The motion of her grinding into him and soft moans emitting from her lips and her hands in his hair; him hardening and not being able to breathe and wanting to devour her. If you would have told him at the beginning of yesterday that this would be how he would be ending his night and starting his morning, not even Springsteen personally delivering the news to him would have made him believe you. He goes for her lips again, kissing her deeply-thoroughly- and she returns the kiss with just as much vigor. His fingers find that spot again- _hot, wet, calling to him_ \- and he ghosts them over the bundle of nerves there, causing her to gasp and clench her thighs tighter around his waist. He lifts her hands over her head and pins them there, using his other hand to continue his motions down below, bringing her closer to the precipice, and when she calls out his name almost like a whisper, a prayer, he's positive that he's standing right up there next to her.

"Danny, I... I need..." she moans against his lips and without letting her finish the sentence, he uses his hand to ready himself, and then slowly, deliberately, he presses into her. The feeling of it all causes them both to be momentarily paralyzed with pleasure, but soon they are in motion again once she begins moving her hips against his. He rocks against her, pulling one leg higher around him while the other hand still holds both of her hands above her head. Her gasps and sighs spur him on further, and he finds it hard to maintain focus when she's crying out the way she is, all free and wanton and _so damn_   _gorgeous_. It's nothing like it was the night before, which was primal and honestly a little bit rough, with all of the grips and scratches and deep plunges. This time around, he's gentle, tender- stroking her deeply and making sure she feels every bit of him. It's a different side of him that he hasn't used in so long and she brings it out of him more often than he cares to admit, especially when she allows him to have his way with her. This is much more than just sex to him, more than just a hookup or a one-night stand; this is his attempt at trying to build something with her past these sheets, past this room. He increases his speed with this thought, and soon they are both plummeting over into bliss. They both allow themselves a moment to breathe in the new atmosphere, and then he rolls them over into a cuddling position, his leg quickly finding the spot between both of hers again.

"What was that about?" she sighs brightly against his chest, tucking herself into his arms.

He smiles against her hair and runs his fingers across her shoulder blades.

"Just giving you something else to talk about."

_|I wish everybody knew what's so great about you.|_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angst. (sorry i'm not sorry.)

She’s stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her body when she hears him call out from the kitchen:

“Hey, you want to do something tonight?”

In that moment she freezes, suddenly super aware of her surroundings. Her standing in Danny’s bathroom, water dripping down her shoulders from wet hair. Him out in the kitchen, cooking what smells like blueberry pancakes. Her in Danny’s apartment. Her comfortably moving around in this space, as if it all makes sense and it’s the way things are supposed to be and they’re together as more than just friends. Which they are.

Right?

Yeah. Yeah, definitely. They’re clearly more than just friends. They have to be. Like, you don’t just spend a night like  _that_  together (also a morning, and a little afternoon) without being something more than friends.

And he said he was in love with her, and she said she was in love with him, which she definitely is, so there’s that.

Right?

_Right?_

Oh God. She needs to talk to Gwen asap.

She feels a bead of water roll down her chest and she remembers where she is. She needs to get dressed and she needs to get out of here (after she gets pancakes because, _duh pancakes_ ) and she needs to pretend like she didn't just hear what Danny has said to her. So that’s what she does. She heads into his bedroom and quickly dresses, throwing on her pants and one of his shirts and then her jacket, and quickly fixing her hair into a bun. She gathers the rest of her clothes and stuffs them into one of his gym bags she sees sitting in the corner of his room and then tosses it on her shoulder. She goes to exit his room but pauses.

She needs a moment.

She doesn’t feel right running out of here like this. She knows she needs to talk to Danny about whatever this is, and she knows she needs to talk to Cliff. She just... she can’t right now. She’s very confused about all of this, because this isn’t one of those situations where she can pretend like she knows what she’s doing and hope for the best. And she feels like she can’t be confused, because why? Why be confused when you know you’re in love with someone and you know they’re in love with you? That should be the end of it- that should be the correct, fixed, clear answer... _right?_  Yet, it doesn't feel clear right now at all: it feels foggy and thrilling and daunting and great and like too much all at once. Right now, she feels like she’s in that freaking Robert Frost poem, you know, the one about two roads in the woods or whatever, and she’s terrified about picking the wrong one, because each of them lead to two very different places and each of them take her to two very different versions of happiness. And she doesn’t want two different versions, she wants one, the right one where she gets everything. And she knows deep inside how unrealistic that is because this life isn’t a romantic comedy but God, can’t she catch a break once and just have a happy ending? Christ.

She lets out a sigh and adjusts the bag on her shoulder. If she’s being really truly honest with herself though, she thinks she knows what road she would take. But that road is really, really,  _really_  scary, and she’s terrible at directions and she has a lot of baggage with her and just the possibility that that road might have an end destination that changes everything forever makes her want to run for the freaking hills.

The sound of pots clanging in the kitchen pull her out of her reverie and remind her that she can’t stand here forever. She takes one final breath and leaves Danny’s room, shutting the door behind her. He’s standing at the stove with his back to her, a white tee shirt stretched across his back and a towel thrown over his shoulder, and she’s reminded of the morning: the feeling of being wrapped around him, her nails digging into those muscles in his back and their bodies slick with swear and him rocking deep into her....

**_She needs to get out of here._ **

She starts to move toward the door but he turns just in time and flashes her that signature smirk of his and for a second everything feels perfect, like this is how it’s meant to be. But as quick as that thought arrives, it’s gone with just as much speed when she sees his smile disappear.

“Where are you going?” he asks, wiping his hands on the towel and tossing it onto the counter.

Frick.

What is she supposed to say?  _Oh, you know, I’m just running because I’m scared and confused so if I could get those pancakes to go and I’ll see you at work tomorrow or not because I’m probably going to be avoiding you?_

She finds herself shifting from one foot to another and looking at the ground, and she hears him move from the counter until she sees his feet appear in front of her.

“Hey.” He lifts her chin with his finger and their eyes meet, and there is so much love looking back at her that she doesn’t know what to do, she feels suddenly overwhelmed.

“I...” She begins but then he leans down to kiss her and she forgets what she’s going to say. He pecks her lips a few times before stepping back and grabbing her hand, leading her to a chair at his table. “Sit,” he says and she does, dropping her bag at her feet. He slides a plate over to her covered in eggs, bacon and his famous blueberry pancakes. “I know you must be hungry,” he says coming around to sit next to her with his own plate. “We haven’t really made time to eat in the past few hours.” And there’s that damn smile again, and then he’s diving into his meal, and she’s just sitting there, more nervous than hungry, which he notices.

“What’s wrong? Are you not hungry?”

Uh-oh. She feels it coming up and out.

“Danny.... what are we doing?”

He chuckles. “Well, I’m eating pancakes. You are not, which is weird because you love pancakes, especially blueberry ones.”

“I do love a good breakfast food”, she smiles briefly before continuing, “But no, I mean- _what are we doing?_ ” She gestures between the both of them.

“We’re... eating pancakes?”

“Danny!”

“What?! I’m confused by the question! You just repeated the same thing over again!”

And just like that, she’s gotten her answer. She scoots back her chair, grabbing the bag at her feet and then heads for the door.

“Wait, where are you going? What is happening here?”

He’s behind her in no time. “Danny,” she exhales, turning around to face him. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m confused.”

She shoots him a look causing him to back off a little, and she proceeds. “When I say, ‘what are we doing’, I mean, what’s going on here.” He still looks confused and she wonders how a smart doctor such as him can be so dumb, but whatever. “I mean, we’re sitting here eating pancakes acting like nothing happened between us,  like we don’t have a million and one things to discuss.”

He’s silent now- arms folded across his chest, face pensive- and she knows she’s mirroring him. They’re at a standstill.

“I know we need to talk,” he finally says, his voice taking on a softer tone. She calms a bit and waits for him to continue. He sighs. “I.... I know we need to talk about last night and we need to talk about what happened on the plane and I know we need to talk about whatshisface.” She lets out a small laugh. He can be such a petulant child sometimes. He runs his hand through his hair and she can feel herself closing the space between them until she’s standing right in front of him. “So what are we going to do?” she asks softly. It’s a question that has multiple answers and several different outcomes and for the first time in a long while, she feels like they might be on two different pages and she doesn’t like that one bit.

“I... I don’t know,” he responds truthfully. “What do you want to do?”

“Danny please, I can barely pick out an outfit. Do you know how long it took me to decide what color to paint my office? I don’t know. You know how I am with options, I want everything.”

“Well, you can’t have everything this time.” And suddenly she’s looking up at him and he’s peering down at her and something has shifted. She steps back.

“I know.” Because she does.

“Look, Min. I told you how I felt last night.” She nods, and he seems to struggle with his next words for a bit before he begins again. “I am in love with you and.... I want to give this a try. Give us a try. See where it goes.” He’s looking at her now and it’s clear that he’s made up his mind and the ball is so obviously in her court and she realizes that that isn’t fair- for all the weight to be on her, as if it’s easy for her to make a decision.

“Then why did you tell me to go back to Cliff?”

“W--what?”

“You text me that. You said, ‘I think you should go back to Cliff’. Why did you say that if that’s not what you wanted?”

She can tell that he’s flummoxed now, his cheeks turning red and he’s running a hand down his face. “Mindy, listen--” he starts but she’s too quick. “What were you going to do if I hadn’t come over here? If I had actually followed your advice?” Because she honestly does want to know.

“Does that matter now?” he retorts. “Does it matter what would have happened? Or does it matter what did happen?”

“Ummm... it all matters! What would you have done? Huh, Danny?”

“I don’t know!” He’s yelling now and she’s giving it right back to him.

“That’s exactly how I feel right now! I don’t know either! Less than 48 hours ago I was headed back here to get back with my boyfriend and now I’m here and you’re telling me you love me and you want to see where this goes, and part of me is like yes, let’s do this, because I’m in love with you too, but the other part of me thought I was in love with Cliff too and those feelings don't just disappear overnight! All of this is just coming out of nowhere and I...” she stops and lets out a sigh, “I don’t know, Danny. I’m not sure like you are.”

“So what are you saying?” She looks up to see him standing across the room from her and his eyes are boring into hers, waiting for an answer, waiting for her to give him something concrete and... she can’t.

“I don’t know.”

“Stop saying that! That has been said too many times in the past ten minutes. You do know, Min. Do you want to be with me or not?” There’s not anger in the question so much as... sincerity. He sincerely wants to know, and she can’t give him a sincere answer because she doesn’t have one.

“I can’t answer that right now.” As soon as she says it, she knows it’s not what he wanted to hear (hell, she doesn’t even know if it’s what she wanted to say) and she can hear him wryly chuckle and she sees him shaking his head.

“Danny--”

“No, I....” He lets out a sigh of his own and crosses his arms over his chest. “I get it. It’s... it’s a lot, like you said. You need some time.” She nods again, and swallows the tears she knows are bubbling up in the back of her throat.

“Well, I guess you better figure out then.”

It feels like a dismissal, an ending, a blow to the gut, and it’s taking everything in her not to start sobbing right then and there. They stay in their respective spots for a moment before she begins moving towards the door, this time actually opening it. She feels like she should say something else- maybe that she’ll call him later or  _somethin_ g- but she doesn’t. She just looks at him one more time and he’s looking in the other direction and a little piece of her breaks. She steps out into the hallway and closes the door. Her boots are still in the hallway, so she grabs them and walks to the elevator.

She cries the entire ride down and in the cab all the way home.

 

_|your love is such a swamp_

_you're the only thing I want_

_and i said i wouldn't cry about it|_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had a playlist going when i was writing this. if you want to, maybe take a listen to "another again" by john legend. it just got me in a mood.
> 
> also, thanks for sticking around. bless your soul.


	5. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this one is a bit longer, so there's that. Kind of still angsty, sorry I'm not sorry. Let me know how you feel in the comments.  
> Also the responses for this have made me so happy, so thank you. Like, I save every one of them and just smile all day. You guys are truly so fantastic.  
> Enjoy!

It’s his feet beating against wet pavement that helps him clear his mind. That burn spreading across his chest, slight ache in his side, lungs attempting to get some air inside, blood rushing. It’s a different kind of pressure than the one he’s been feeling for the past week or so. This one’s more tangible than the weight that’s been settled on his chest ever since  _she_....

He speeds up.

He’s learned that the faster you go, the less time you have to think about other things. Hell, if it were up to him he’d run forever just so he wasn't standing still, just so he’d have somewhere to go so he wasn't sitting and thinking and drinking, getting angrier with every passing hour. And he knows he has no right to be angry, because he gets it, honestly- she needs time, that’s fair- but that doesn't stop him from upping his nightcap of bourbon from one glass to two (the past few nights, three and once, even a cigarette), and it also doesn't stop him from adding an extra mile to his midday run or an extra half hour to his regimen at the gym.

He feels his feet moving faster under him and the wind picks up on his face. He wipes sweat from across his forehead and goes faster still, moving from what was a jog into a full on run, turning down another path in the park near the the office. He’s starting to head back when he decides to keep going, running past where he would usually stop down another path. It’s relatively empty out due to the rain earlier in the day, and he relishes in it. He doesn’t really want to see anyone right now. In fact, he’s been avoiding everyone since  _that_  day. Aside from a few calls to his mother and Richie, and some very brief work-related conversations with Reed about what he missed while he was in LA, he hasn't made it a point to be social with anyone. It’s been back to routine- getting up, heading into work, going to the gym, and then home- and he has faithfully stuck to his system. Routine gives him something to do, it keeps him occupied, prevents him from checking his phone every ten minutes looking for a text or a call or an update about what the hell is going on. It keeps him from wanting to punch a wall every time he thinks about that day in his apartment- them arguing and him not knowing what to do and her leaving and him being an absolute fool- and it stops him from remembering that she did exactly what he feared she would do: run. She ran and she left him and he fucked up by not understanding that of course she had some reservations. But that doesn’t matter now, because he’s not going to think about it anymore; he doesn’t have time. When he’s on a tight schedule packed with patients and paperwork, he doesn’t have time to sit around waiting in the lounge hoping she’s going to come in for even a split second so he can see her. He’s not standing around at reception waiting for her to leave her office just so he can hear her voice. And that is a good thing. No, that’s a great thing. As a matter of fact, he’s never been better. He’s focused and he’s fit and yeah, he’s lonely but that doesn’t matter, because he’s been lonely before and it didn’t kill him, no matter how much he wished it did.

He going faster now, shifting from a run to a full on sprint. He moves swiftly along the pavement, passing the few people who are out on their lunch breaks and some moms out pushing strollers. He keeps the pace, pushing harder and harder, until he sees water up ahead. As he closes in on the boardwalk, he slows down, trying to catch his breath. He jogs up the edge and finds an empty bench near the end and promptly takes a seat. He breathes in deep and exhales, releasing his head against the back of the bench and repeating the breaths. He sits there for a moment, letting the silence of his surroundings wash over him. He knows that he’s going to have to return soon- he has a 2:30 appointment with Mrs. Wasserstein- but for now he just needs this. He needs a second to catch his breath, because this is the first time all week that he’s felt like he’s actually getting some air into his lungs; the first time he’s felt like his chest isn’t going to cave in on him. He lifts his head once his breathing has evened and gazes out to the water. Maybe he should take a trip out to the island this weekend, just to get away for a while, because that’s what he needs- a vacation. Time to get away from here, to think about something else, get some clarity. He stands and proceeds to head back to the office, mentally planning the details of his trip, when his eyes catch two figures strolling down the boardwalk. He starts to pay them no attention until he hears a familiar laugh ring out, high yet full and warm. It’s the laugh he’s been wanting to hear all week, the laugh he’s been hiding away from.

Mindy.

She’s strolling next to Cliff, hands tucked into the pockets of her emerald coat and her glasses perched on her face and hair tucked behind her ear. She looks... different. Happy. Definitely not how she looked the last time he saw her. He watches for a bit, and with each passing second he feels that recurring pressure start to build back up, and he can’t do it. He won’t. He can’t give into it anymore. He gives her one more glance before heading back up to the paths, and he’s running again.

*

She swears she sees Danny down the walk and for just a instant, she freezes. She could just be hallucinating, only seeing what she  _wants_  to see, but maybe she’s not. After all, now is about the time he would be out on his jog. She looks down at her watch and notes the time- about 1:45- and looks back to up only to see the figure disappear back up into the paths. It probably wasn’t him. He’s probably already back at the office preparing for his 2:30 with Mrs. Wasserstein, and plus this isn’t his regular path- he usually stays further up just in case one of his patients goes into labor so he can get back quickly. Plus it’s still wet out, so maybe he didn’t even go for a jog. Maybe he went to the gym instead.

_Okay. Let’s go with all of those._

“Mindy?”

Cliff’s hand on her elbow pulls her back to the present, and she looks up at him, softly smiling. “Sorry”, she says, resuming her walking with him. “I just... blanked for a minute. I’m back now.”

“No, it’s fine.” He’s smiling back at her now, and she’s looking away, looking for a place to sit instead. She spots a bench not too far away. “Hey, you want to sit for a minute?” she asks, heading towards the bench.

“Why, are you getting tired already?” Cliff teases, following behind her. “Ha, you know me,” she jokes back flatly, “walking and exercise, too much for this gal.” She lets out a short chuckle before taking a seat. He doesn’t notice but she scoots over just an inch as soon as he slides onto the bench. Since she first agreed to meet him on her lunch break a few days ago, she had been dreading it. She’d thought that they’d just meet somewhere and hash things out and she could just go about her day and get everything figured out, but Cliff apparently had other ideas. He’d offered to take her out for lunch at a new tapas bar not too far from the practice, and while it was a place she had wanted to visit, she hadn’t wanted to go on a day where she was actually hungry. They had a few of the appetizers and some wine (all of which were underwhelming. She couldn’t wait to do her Yelp! review, they were going to get some words from her), so now not only was she starving, she was also a little tipsy, and alcohol plus a starving Mindy does not a nice girl make. They had been out for almost two hours now and the topic of their situation still had not been broached, and she was getting relatively aggravated, not to mention her feet were starting to hurt and it was chilly. This was her last resort. She realizes that Cliff has been talking ( _rambling_ ) ever since they sat down- something about the boats at the pier- and she can’t take it anymore.

“Cliff, we need to talk,” she finally blurts out, stopping his speech. His eyes widen at this, and then he’s nodding, looking out at the water. He takes a breath before looking at her again and folding his hands in his lap. “Alright. Yes. Let’s... let’s talk.”

“Okay,” she responds, taking her own breath and shifting in her seat just a little so that she’s facing him. She goes to speak but then realizes she doesn’t know what to say. Well, it’s not that she doesn’t know what to say, she just doesn’t know where to begin. There’s a lot to go through: the letter, their level of trust with each other, his hesitance to move in with her, her kissing Danny...

“Do you want me to start?” he offers, sensing her apprehension, and she simply nods. “Okay,” he sighs. “Well... I guess we should talk about the letter.”

She swallows, thinking back to the email she sent him when she was on the plane, and how none of those words were hers, but all of Danny’s. Talk about a missed sign. A huge, glaring, Las Vegas sized sign she just totally wasn’t even paying attention to. Jesus.

“Okay.”

“Well,” he says, “did you mean everything you said?” She opens her mouth to speak but she’s grateful when he continues on. “Because you said a lot, and I’ve had some time to think about it all and I--”

“I kissed Danny!”

“---think we should try again. W-what?”

She isn’t quite sure what just happened but she knows that she’s fucked up- that much she can gather. She immediately covers her mouth. He’s looking at her now, eyes wide in shock and then he’s standing up and moving away from her.

“You... did what?” he stammers.

She removes her hand from her mouth slowly and sighs. “I... kissed Danny,” she mutters. “I mean, well, technically he kissed me, but I’m guessing you’re not too concerned with the technicals right now.”

“You kissed Danny? Danny  _Castellano_?” She nods. “Angry, surly, old man Danny Castellano?”

“He’s not surly”, she mumbles but he hears her and it’s like she’s just digging a deeper hole and she doesn’t even know what’s going on anymore.

“Are you kidding me right now, Mindy? I’m telling you I want to be with you and you choose now to tell me that you kissed your co-worker?!”

“He kissed me!” she exclaims, standing to her feet.

“Mindy, that doesn’t matter even matter right now! What matters is now I can’t trust you!”

“Oh, like you trusted me before?” she retorts, half wishing she hadn't said it but continuing. “Like how you saw one picture of me and assumed that I hooked up with my ex-fiance?”

“Okay, I admit that was an overreaction, but who would have thought I was actually on the right path with the idea!”

“Okay, no,” she snaps, stepping in closer to him. “If you didn’t trust me before, if you had even a little bit of an inkling at any point in time before I went to L.A., me kissing Danny was not going change that. And for your information,” she says, poking him in the chest, “I kissed him after you broke things off with me.”

“Oh, so you did kiss him back?” he spits.

“No! I mean, yes but he kissed me first!” She’s shaking her head, trying to regain focus. “Ugh! What does that even matter now? You just said that doesn’t matter!”

He’s moving around her now, out of her space to the other side of the bench for some distance. “You know what? You’re right. It doesn’t. What’s important here is timeline. Did you kiss him before or after you sent me that letter?”

She flusters for a bit. “W-what?”

“Did you, Mindy Lahiri, engage in a kiss with Danny Castellano before or after you sent me that letter of apology?” He’s waiting now, one hand on his hip and the other on the bench, and he’s staring at her and she can’t find it within herself to lie. She swallows this time and stuffs her hands into her pockets. She’s quiet when she answers him back.

“...After.”

And in that moment she knows whatever they had can’t be fixed. It’s irreparable. She watches him sit and take a deep breath, running his hands through his hair and then shaking his head. She stands for another moment before approaching the bench slowly and taking a seat next to him. A silence covers them both and they settle into it for a while. After a few minutes have passed (or like an hour, she doesn’t know), he finally speaks.

“You know... I always thought there was something there.”

Her head snaps up at this. “What?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, peering out at the water. “I always suspected or whatever. Just... I don’t know. There was always a thought in the back of my mind.”

She’s looking at him now, trying to read his face, letting his words roll around in her head. It’s not the first time she’s heard this. She got it from Josh at rehab and Gwen’s mentioned it once or twice, but to hear it now from Cliff, it just all... settles into place. Looking back on her relationship with Danny, she can see how she may have missed all those signs. There was the moment before she went to Haiti with the glasses in the lounge, and them after the Weiner night fiasco, also their conversation the morning after crazy neighbor lady...

But those were all experiences that involved other women. She never once thought he was looking twice at her. Okay, that’s a lie, because there was the night he gave her her secret Santa gift... And she would also be lying if she said she had never thought of Danny in  _that_  way before. Even after all that’s transpired between them in the past week, she still can’t admit to herself that he’s always wanted something more from their friendship and that she’s been too blind to see it. She’s always been so involved with every other guy that she missed the one man she’s been waiting for hiding right under her nose. It probably also didn’t help that the first time he showed her just a little bit of himself- opened up and let her see another side of him- she bolted.

Frick.

She lets out a sigh and puts her head in her hands. She takes several deep breaths before sitting back up and turning to Cliff.

“Cliff, listen. I’m... I messed up.”

“Yeah,” he answers sharply.

“But in my defense, I didn’t set out to cheat on you, especially not with Danny. That never once crossed my mind. I was actually trying to race home to get you back when Danny needed some help. There was this whole thing with his dad and him finding out he had a sister and--”

“And we’re back to Danny again.”

There’s a change in the air around them and it has nothing to do with the weather. Mindy can feel anger boiling up within her but she tries to calm herself. “Okay. Look, I admit where I went wrong. But please, for your benefit, don’t try to put this all on me. Don’t act like the moment you thought I messed up, you didn't break it off with me. You were looking for an out--”

“I was not looking for an out--”

“--You were too, and you found one the minute you saw me with Casey. Admit it, Cliff. Instead of letting me know that you thought I was moving too fast, you took the first exit you saw.”

He pauses at this and shakes his head, letting out a wry chuckle. She isn’t phased. “Tell me the truth, Cliff.”

He’s staring at her for a moment until he finally speaks. “Fine. Fine. I admit that I thought we were moving too fast and I guess, subconsciously, I was looking for an out.”

It’s her turn to wryly chuckle. “Huh. Okay. ‘Subconsciously.’” She stands and adjusts her glasses, and then folds her arms across her chest. “You know, Cliff? I feel like we’re fighting to no end.” He’s standing now too, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat.

“Yeah?” he questions. “How do you mean?”

“I mean that it’s clear we’re not going anywhere. I mean this isn’t going to work. You don’t trust me and you walk around with this idea in the back of your head that I’m not fully invested in you, which wasn’t true up until this past week. You should have seen how badly I wanted to get back here to fix whatever was broken between us, and now you tell me that you’ve always had these doubts, which before I wouldn’t have understood, but I do now. We communicate differently. I’m the type of person who will tell someone I love them on the second date, and you’re the type to say ‘I love you’ by mistake and then pretend it never happened.” She watches him shift from foot to foot and she presses on. “Look, you have every right to be angry at me. I did make certain decisions after I begged you to take me back, and for that I apologize. I shouldn’t have kissed or slept with Danny.”

“Wait- what? You slept with Danny too?” He scoffs. “Incredible.” Her eyes roll at this. She’s over this conversation, this meeting, this entire situation. “Yes, but that doesn’t matter now. The point of this is that we both had/have our issues. I can’t be with someone who has one foot in and one foot out, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be with me while I’m in love with someone else.”

He’s staring at her again, but with a different look than before. It’s not animosity looking back at her, but honesty. Clarity. (Is that relief she detects? Rude.)

“You’re in love with him, huh.”

It’s an immediate response from her end. “I am.”

He looks at her a moment longer before breaking eye contact and looking at his feet. He lets out a laugh. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He takes a step forward and takes her in. “No, you’re right. I wasn’t fully committed to this, as much as I told myself that I was. And you... well, it’s clear you have your own kind of baggage that you need to deal with. So... okay.”

She smiles softly. “Okay then.” Sticking out her hand, she goes for a handshake and he embraces it. “I guess that’s it then.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he says, releasing her hand and stuffing his back into his pocket. They linger for a moment before her phone beeps with a text from Betsey saying that her 3:00 is on her way. “I guess I better go then,” she states, returning her phone to her pocket.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he sighs, sitting back down. “I’ll wait here for a bit just so we don’t have to make that awkward walk back together.” She’s chuckles, grateful for this. “Thank you.” She looks at him one more time before turning to head up one of the many paths that lead through the park back up to the main street. She’s walking back up when she hears him call out to her.

“Hey Mindy.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t... don’t fuck it up.”

She throws him a smile and nods, and then resumes her walking. She wants to tell him that that was rude but she doesn’t want to ruin the moment and she doesn’t want to spend any more time there than she has to. She’s hungry and she also has some problems that need attending to.  _Time to put on your big girl panties, Lahiri,_  she sighs.

Here goes nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making a playlist for this as I go through, so I may be adding that soon to here and 8tracks. We shall see. =)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. This isn't my favorite chapter (it took me forever to write, I may have encountered a small amount of writers' block) but I think it's a necessary chapter. Let me know how you feel in the reviews. I think I might be finishing this up in the next chapter or two, so here we go.

The key to approaching situations like this is to act as casually as possible. Don't attack- simply approach. Stalk, if you will.

Okay. Maybe not stalk. More like... proceed with caution.

Definitely.

_So, what you're going to do, Lahiri, is go in there and..._

_Okay, listen. You're going to go in there and knock on his door and you're going to say..._

_You are going to go in there and you are going to tell him that..._

Christ.

"Ugh!" She lets out a deep exhale and leans her head on the back wall of the elevator. She hears it  _ding!_ , signaling that she's reached the bottom... again. She lifts her head to see the doors for the first floor lobby open for the sixth time since she's entered the building, and she reaches over to do what she's done every time those metal doors close: push all the buttons. She hates to be that person on the elevator who makes it stop on all the floors but like, she really needs the time to think, because  ** _frick_** , y'know?

She thought she had it all figured out. After telling Cliff that she was in love with Danny, her walk back to the office was full of clarity (this was after a brief stop to get real food because she's a woman and not a fish. Like, who eats just appetizers? Come on.) She was almost jubilant, because she knew what she had to do. She had to march right on up into Danny's office and spill her guts out. She had to tell him all about her meeting with Cliff and how  _seriously_  over him she was and how deeply, madly, recklessly in love with Daniel Castellano she was and then she was going to kiss him absolutely senseless and that was just going to be it. They were going to hash it out and move forward because that's what you do. You fight and then you apologize and then you have really awesome makeup sex and you wake up and have blueberry pancakes the next morning. And yes, she admits that she was confused and scared before but she's not now. Well, no, that's partially a lie. She's not confused but she is a little (lot) terrified. But like, that's a good thing, right? It's a good kind of scary, like right before you drop from the top of a rollercoaster. Yes she has fears but she's dealing with them because that's what you do when you want something badly, when something this huge matters to you this much. He is what she wants. Period. He is the end for her, and she's sorry that she was so blind before but she realizes where she went wrong, and she just really wants fix this.

Anyway, she had all of this planned out in her head when she came into the building, but as soon as she stepped foot onto the elevator, it was as if everything all vanished and was replaced by this overwhelming sense of anxiety. The feeling settled in the pit of her stomach- a  _dread_ \- that Danny could say no. Say no to her, no to them. She acknowledges she can be a little much sometimes, with her tendency to leave her laundry stacked up for weeks (months) and her Miley Cyrus soliloquies and her eating cereal out of wine glasses. But that's not even what's got her the most wary. It's the fact that she committed the unforgivable sin; she did the one thing that she promised not to ever do to him: she left him. He doesn't like talking about it because he spends like 85% of his time trying to be macho-masculine-real-men-build-stuff-with-their-hands-yadda-yadda-yadda, but she knows he takes a hit every time a relationship fails. She literally saw it happen after Eye Patch, and she sees the extent of the damage left behind from people like Christina and his dad in some of the little things he says and does. It's not even just the leaving that has messed him up, it's also what happens after they leave- the replacement, in either a different man or a secret (albeit super cool) daughter- that keeps him closed off. So, not only did she run, she ran back to Cliff.

After they had made love.

It's almost comical how much she has mucked this one up.

So that's why she's in the elevator. She's had the fortunate opportunity of not really encountering anyone while riding up and down and back again, outside of a few old ladies and some pregnant women coming from the midwives, and she prays that it stays that way. She watches the numbers light up for all seven floors, and once it arrives at the top after a few stops, she hits them all again, waiting for the familiar descend.

Except for there isn't one.

She pauses in her spot for a moment before tapping all of the numbers individually.

Still no movement.

"Are you kidding me right now," she mumbles, mashing all the lit buttons and waiting for a response. After a minute, she pulls out her cell phone to dial Betsy, but her cell promptly answers her with a no signal beep. She tosses it back into her pocket and slides to ground, letting out a small wail, because this is honestly all she needs: to be stuck hanging seven floors above the ground in this stupid elevator with only her thoughts and a half pack of Sour Straws stashed in her coat, while the man she loves is probably down in his office trying to find a way to get out of dodge, planning on disappearing or faking his own death or something just to avoid the messy hurricane that is Mindy Lahiri. Perhaps he's burrowing further into his hole with work and strict activities, putting back up all those walls she spent such a long time taking down.

Isn't life just grand right now.

"Dr. Lahiri?"

She raises her head, looking around the elevator.

"God? Is that you? Beyoncé?"

A laugh. "No, Dr. Lahiri. It's Ramon from security down at the front desk." She searches the space, locating the intercom nestled in the corner near the camera. "I've been getting some complaints about a suspicious Indian girl on the elevator, and well... Are you alright? You've been in there for a very long time."

She sighs and reclines her head back. "Yes, Ramon, I'm fine. Just having a dramatic moment about love here."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"You know what, Ramon?" she replies, "I do. Because I am just so freaking conflicted right now over this guy, who I think I just really messed up with and-"

"Oh, not with me, Dr. Lahiri. Perhaps one of the psychiatrists on the second floor? Or one of the nice Deslaurier brothers on the fifth floor?"

Eye roll.  _Rude_.

"Umm, no thanks Ramon," she says, pushing herself off of the floor and wiping dust off her coat, "Just... just let me go down to the fourth floor, please."

"No problem," he answers, and the elevator immediately starts moving again. She watches the lights behind the numbers disappear, until it stops on four. "I hope you get it all figured out, Dr. Lahiri," Ramon chirps as the doors open. She simply nods at the camera and steps off into the lobby of the practice. It's quiet, which isn't something new because patients usually have all of their appointments early in the day, but it's very quiet. A little too quiet. She approaches the desk to see Betsy nose deep into some book, probably To Kill A Mockingbird or something lame like that.

"Hey Bets," she says, "where is everyone?" The little brunette raises her head and offers her a warm smile. "Oh hi, Dr. Lahiri! Everyone is here, I think. I know Dr. Reed is in his office finishing up some loose ends with one of his patients. Dr. Prentice took off for the day, something about meeting up with a Chicago six- I don't really know what that means- and I'm sure Morgan is around here somewhere, but I've learned not to ask questions. Tamra and Beverly are-"

"Is Danny in?" That's the real question.

"Dr. Castellano? He also took off for the rest of the day."

Crap. Just like she thought he would. "Did he say where he was going?" she inquires, looking to Danny's office for a moment and then back at Betsy, who's shaking her head. "Nope. He just said he had an errand to run and that he was taking the rest of the day off and he would see us all tomorrow."

And with that, her stomach drops just a little, because the thought of her messing this one up _for real_  is-

It suddenly hits her like a ton of bricks.

No. That's not going to work for her.

It isn't working for her. In fact, it hasn't been working for her for the past week, and the more it's left unattended to the more she overthinks it, and the next thing she knows she's letting her fears steer her and she spending a creepy amount of time in the resident elevator. And that is so not her, because when was the last time Mindy Lahiri didn't get her way? The last time she didn't get what she wanted? She can't even remember, it was so long ago. The longer she waits, the further she gets away from what she really wants, and what she really wants is somewhere out there in the city (hopefully at home because she does not feel like trekking all around the city to his favorite spots trying to find him. Like, she will if she has to but she won't be happy about it). She can't wait any longer. She won't. And she's not going to let him either. She's not going to let him hide from her anymore, because frankly she's exhausted. She's over not seeing him, not touching him, not talking with him, even if it's just as best friends. He has to feel the same way too.

"Is everything okay, Dr. Lahiri? You have that look on your face."

"What look?" Mindy asks, peering at the woman again.

"That look you get when you're plotting something. It's the same look you get when you realize there's an extra coffee cake in the lounge."

She lets out a small chuckle and starts crossing to her office to retrieve the rest of her things."First off," she says, shutting her office door and heading towards the elevators again, "I don't plot. I'm not a comic book villain, I don't have time for that. And secondly, everything is great. As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to take off for the day too."

"Umm, okay," Betsy responds warily. "Did you want me to get in touch with Dr. Castellano for you?"

She gives the young girl a sly smile. "Nope. I think I'm going to make this one a personal call."

And with that, she's gone.

*

He's clutching the brown paper bag in his arms tighter and staring at the door in front of him.

_Fuck._

What seemed like a great idea earlier- a grand idea, especially considering what he saw on the pier- now seems a bit foolish. He's standing on the front porch of his childhood home, holding a bag of groceries, praying to the good Lord above that his Ma doesn't see through is thin attempt to avoid the problems he's running from on the other side of the island.

He just needs some time. To get away, to breathe easy, get his thoughts in order. He's tired of the way everything's been building up for the past week or so and he honestly just needed this. What better place to get a break than at home, where there's good food and familiar faces and no pretty Indian girls breaking your heart every now and again. But that's something he'd rather not think about it, because as someone who has been replaying all of their moments together on a continuous loop in his head for the past eight or so days, he's really tired of beating himself up. Seeing her with Cliff? Oh, that was just fantastic. It just confused him more, which only made an anger swell up inside of him because why is everything so much harder than it needs to be? Why can't they just communicate? Why can't he just talk to her and stop being so...  _Danny_?

He shakes his head to clear the thought. He's already been thinking about it for much longer than he would like, and his arms are starting to ache from standing on the porch for so long holding a large bag of food. He packs the thoughts away for another time and retrieves keys from his pocket, unlocking the door with one hand and pushing to door open with a shoulder.

"Ma?" he calls out, shutting the door behind him with his foot and tossing his keys in the bowl near the door. The house is silent, with the exception of the sound of Wheel of Fortune coming from the kitchen. He smiles. Everything is still pretty much the same. Same wooden floors he remembers racing across as a teen, baseball in hand, only to shoot out the front door and into the street to play another round of catch with Richie. Same plastic covered cream couches in the living room, memories of the thick, clear material sticking to the back of his legs on humid summer afternoons. Same walls lined with pictures of graduations and birthdays and family barbeques. It all seems to be stuck in time and a warm feeling settles over him. There's comfort in the way some things never change.

He walks into the kitchen to see his mother at the kitchen table, dressed in a floral nightgown and faded pink slippers, haired curled around her head. She's peeling potatoes and plopping them into a bowl of water situated in front of her, fully engaged in trying to guess the phrase for the Fictional Characters category.

"Ma?"

She turns, a grin spreading across her face. "Danny boy!" she exclaims, dropping the last of the potato into the bowl and getting up from the table to embrace him. "What are you doing out here?" He sets the bag on a nearby counter and returns the hug. "Ah, you know. Just needed to take a break." He stays in her arms a bit longer than he intends and he knows this. (Hey, sometimes a guy just misses his Ma, alright?) It's one of those things that always happens when he comes home without fail, his mother hugging him as if he comes home every four years and not every other Sunday. But he allows it because he especially needs it right now.

As if on cue, it's as if his words have sparked something within his mother, her maternal senses kicking in. She releases him from the embrace and stares at him, placing her soft hands on his cheeks and cradling his face. She's giving him that look now, the one that's a mixture of gentle prodding and a search for the truth. It's the same one that got him to confess to stealing candies out of the jar on Father Peter's desk when he was twelve; the same one Richie got when he was sixteen and snuck the car out to go a music festival upstate. He feels like a young boy again.

"What?" he questions.

"Don't what me, Daniel Antony Castellano. What's going on?" He doesn't know why he would assume that she wouldn't see through him as clear as day, and he can feel himself faltering under her motherly gaze, so he goes for a distraction instead. "Nothing, Ma," he mutters, moving out of her touch and removing his jacket, "Nothing's wrong with me." He places his jacket on the back of a chair before rolling up his sleeves and going back to the bag on the counter to unload it. She's right on him. "Uh-uh, no you don't," she continues, coming up beside him to press further, "You forget I know you. I was in labor with you for 36 hours. 36 hours. I pushed you outta my body"- he lets out a groan at this- "I know you better than you know yourself." He doesn't respond, just continues to place groceries in places all around the kitchen. But she's not letting up. "Oh, don't you be giving me the silent treatment now, Daniel. I know you like sticking to the routine of things and this is out of it. And don't think I don't know you've been waiting out on that porch for the past fifteen minutes debating whether or not to come in."

He stills for a moment at a cabinet, and then turns to face his mother, who's meeting him with inquisitive eyes.

"How'd you know I was on the porch?"

"Daniel, please," she waves, crossing back to sit in her chair, "You're not the most inconspicuous character. Plus, Mrs. Salvaretti saw you at Dom's Butcher and rang me up, and you know that lady can't keep a secret to save her life." She gifts him a soft smile before resuming the peeling of potatoes. "I was beginning to wonder how long you were going to stay out there."

He lets out a chuckle at this. Of course she knew he was out there. That's one of the downsides to being back home, everyone knows you're here because everyone talks so damn much. He goes to back to the groceries then, pulling out the last few- a couple slabs of steaks, which he takes to the sink to rinse.

"How do you feel about some meat with those potatoes?" he tosses over his shoulder.

"Sounds delicious. How do you feel about whatever problem it is that you're not talking about, the one you just tried to change the subject on?"

_Sigh._

"Ma, please..."

"Daniel, I know you didn't come all the way out here to cook me a meal, so why don't we just get it all out of the way now. Or, we can wait until after you've put those steaks on. Whichever you prefer."

She's right. She's right, because when has she ever been wrong. He knows she's not going to give it up and deep inside, he wouldn't want her to because if he's being honest, he really needs to talk to someone about what's going on, maybe get a different perspective on it and help him see what he's clearly been missing the reason he keeps taking three steps forward and seven steps backward. Plus he's not the most social person, so his circle of other friends isn't exactly huge, and the one person he would usually talk to isn't exactly available, so this is the best thing and also the next best thing.

He wipes his hands on a nearby towel before twisting around to look at her again. "Well," he begins, leaning against the sink and folding his arms, "There's this girl..."

"You don't say," she smiles, wiping her hands on the towel in her lap and clicking off the television. "What about her?"

 _Yeah. What about her, Danny? Where are you gonna start?_   He sighs, looking at his feet for a moment.

"I love her."

There's a pause before her response, and he looks up to see why. He catches her eyes again and she's giving him is one her trademark smiles, full of tenderness and understanding, something he didn't know he really needed until it was offered to him.

"I know."

Those words, simple and succinct and weighted, cause something to break inside of him, and it's right then he knows he's going to spill everything out to her. He has to get through all this mud. He has to if he's going to get Mindy back.

And so he speaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another note: I know you might have so questions, so maybe here's some answers:
> 
> 1\. I changed Danny's middle name. I really don't think it's Mussolini, and if it is, I just took another take on it.
> 
> 2\. I really thought about finishing out the conversation with his mother, but then I was like, maybe not. Let's try something else. I kind of like how it turned out and I think it will give us some more breathing room in the next chapter.
> 
> 3\. I really want to thank you guys for being so patient with me and for all the responses. They have truly been so great, so thank you thank you thank you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it has taken me literally months to update this. So much has happened this season and me finishing this is way past due. We've gotten so much from these two, so this last chapter is probably irrelevant but I just had to finish it. This is my very first multi-fic and y'know, I don't think it went all that horribly. I've learned a lot from all of the fantastic writers in this fandom, so I'll just keep the writing. I hope you guys enjoy this last chapter, and if not, well at least you can't say I didn't finish it. Leave me comments, mostly so I can learn from what I did here. I'd really appreciate it. Dandy on. =)
> 
> (also this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.)
> 
> -yourealoverimarunner

She's standing in her kitchen, clad in her favorite green polka dot short set pajamas and pouring her fourth glass of wine (that's a lie, it's her seventh. Or maybe her eighth? Whatever.) when she realizes she's out. She groans and takes a gander around. Three empty bottles line her counter, and that's just not going to do. How is she supposed to dramatically drown her sorrows out with no wine? See, the plan is to stay holed up in her apartment for an indefinite amount of time (probably just the weekend because Jeremy won't let her take anymore heartbreak days, claiming "those aren't a real thing" or something), with multiple bottles expensive cabernet sauvignon while watching romcoms starring hot British actors and eating large quantities of glass noodles until she's not replaying what was perhaps one of the top three dumbest moments of her entire life (which is actually saying a lot). She laughs faintly at the memory.

Her leaving the office with this brilliant idea that she's going to wait for him at his apartment so she can romantically spill her feelings out for him. Tell him she's terrified about making this something more but she's also really excited because she wants this. Her sneaking in behind his neighbor, Mrs. Herbstein (and subsequently helping Mrs. Herbstein take her groceries up to the seventh floor, why a person needs three bags filled to the brim with gouda is beyond her) only for her to see that Danny isn't home.

Her deciding to wait on the stoop instead.

An hour passing.

And then another.

And another, before she realizes almost three hours have passed and she's been sitting (unglamourously, she might add) outside on his stairs, just waiting. Her giving up the notion of this being a romantic grand gesture and actually calling him at least 10 times. Sending him several text messages, even going as far as shooting out two or three emails.

Getting no response.

The realization hitting her that... he's probably moved on, because how could he have not? He's a catch. Handsome and so dependable and funny (in a curmudgeonly kind of way) and not a selfish lover at all- he's actually very,  _very_ generous- and he visits his mother every Sunday and goes to church somewhat occasionally and she...she knows she can be quite the difficult party. Why would he want to have anything to do with her? She missed her opportunity.

That thought above everything else hurts the most.

She downs the rest of her glass and then moves around her kitchen to locate another bottle, which she finds tucked away in one of the dark recesses of her cabinets. She refills immediately, taking a large gulp. She's just going to drink and drink, and y'know, the idea of never returning back to work again is starting to sound pretty fantastic. Maybe she'll just run a very small ob/gyn place out of her living room instead. Something small, very elite. Someplace Lady Gaga will go when she decides to get knocked up. Actually-no, that's disgusting. She paid a lot of money for that rug out there, and she'll be damned if some pregnant lady, especially someone like Ms. Germanotta, ruins it by breaking her water on it. Also, her electric bill would probably be sky high from all the necessary equipment, and she's already checked before- ultrasound machines don't come in pink or yellow, which is a shame because a pink ultrasound would like amazing in-

A knock sounds through her apartment, and she freezes.

It's him.

Another knock comes, this one heavier.

Then another.

Then a final knock, followed by an all too familiar voice. One that leaves a heat building in her gut.

"Min."

* * *

He knows she's inside.

She's inside.

She is.

He hopes she's inside.

It would not surprise him at all if she's out on a date right now with some other guy- some fucking ex-Abercrombie and Fitch model with blonde hair and no idea about what it means to own a checkbook and a tendency to treat women with little to no respect- and she's probably just eating it all up and not thinking about him at all.

Because that's what happens when you lose track of time and miss calls and text messages and voicemails and emails: you miss your chance. The door of opportunity closes and the girl you're in love with moves on to guys named Josh or Brad or Hayden for  _Christ's sake_  and you're the one stuck standing on the outside. He kicks the wall lightly and blows softly through his lips. It's times like this where he wishes he could take a shot or something because he is a fucking bundle of nerves. Nerves and sweat from racing from to his place to see if she was still waiting for him, and then over here to get to her. All he needs is for her to open the door so he can explain that he got all her messages four hours too late and he wasn't ignoring her. It was quite the opposite actually. All he did while he was home was think about her and try to sort through his thoughts, and he's sure she's out now drinking him away and he can't have that happen. Not when they've gotten this far.

He knocks again and lets her name slip from his lips as a final attempt. He waits, moving himself to the other side of the hall to stare at her door, and then counts to 30.

And then 45.

Why not go to sixty.

No shame in counting to a hundred.

He finishes his countdown and then counts backwards,  _hoping_...

but it's no use.

He pushes off the wall and is prepping to walk away again when the door swings open.

* * *

She can't really tell you what happened in between the moment she opened her door to see him standing there, and this moment right here- him between legs, her pressed up against the doorframe, his lips on hers and them absolutely devouring each other- but she can tell you that she's glad it's happening. She can't think of anything else except for this right here and how good it all feels: his hands running up and down her sides before finding purchase on her ass, his fingers squeezing into her thighs, lips roving from her mouth to that spot just under her ear...

A moan slips from her, and she feels him smile against her throat, nipping at the skin there. He's back to her lips in no time, their kiss easily transitioning from delicate to passionate. His tongue begs for entrance and she gifts it to him, impatient to feel that warmth she's missed since they last parted. She feels that familiar heat rising in her again, that same heat from the plane and from those times in his apartment, and she suddenly she can't wait any longer. She goes for the buckle on his pants, swiftly undoing it and tossing it to the ground. She's blindly moving her fingers to the button of his slacks when she feels his hands around her wrists, and he's pulling away.

"Min," he breathes out, eyes still darkened. His lips are red and slightly swollen, hair mussed, and she wonders how she must look. A laugh escapes her and he offers her one back before stepping out of her embrace, which she  _freaking_  hates. She goes to step toward him again but he meets her with a step back, placing his hand out to stop her.

"Mindy, wait." He takes a couple of breaths and then flashes her one of his lopsided grins that make her knees go just a little weak before he continues on. "As  _much_  as I'm enjoying this, I...we need to talk."

And there goes all of the air in the room. Of course. Yes. Yes, they need to talk. He's right. She rights her top and fixes her buttons before smoothing her hair down.

"You want something to drink?" she offers after a while. He smiles back.

"Got any coffee?"

* * *

It's awkward.

He knows this.

He also knows that there's a lot that needs to be said so he'll take this for right now. This stillness. Her leaning against the counter at the sink, nursing a mug of tea. Him sitting at her island, jacket draped across the back of one of her chairs, a cup of black coffee between his palms steaming up into his face. He takes a small sip from the cup and cracks his neck from side to side before peering up to take a peek at her. She's biting on her bottom lip, fingers tapping on the side of her mug and looking at the floor. A few pieces of her hair that have slipped out of her updo and are waving in her face and god, for a split second he seriously considers getting up and tucking those strands behind her ear. Running his fingers down her jawline before lifting those lips up to his...

He forces that thought to pass though, because it's very important that he focuses on what he's going to say to her. He replays the conversation he had earlier that day with his mother in his head and smiles.

" _You gotta tell her, Danny. You gotta tell her, or it's gonna eat you alive."_

" _I know, Ma. It's just..."_

" _No, there is no 'it's just'. Either it is or it isn't. Either you want this or you don't."_

" _Ma... she's scared. I don't know if she wants this like I want it. I...if she says no..."_

" _You're a little scared, too."_

" _I'm- I'm not-"_

" _She's not Christina, honey."_

" _I know, Ma."_

" _And she's not your father either."_

" _...I know."_

" _Then do something about it. I know you like to wait things out but I don't think this is one of those things you needa be waiting on. Something like this will pass you by if you don't grab it, and I don't want that for you. And I know you don't want that for yourself. Not when it's something this good, this meaningful. Tell that girl you love her, Daniel. Tell her before it's too late."_

He take another sip of his coffee before pushing it away and leaning back in his chair. Gathering up his courage, he's about to speak when she speaks instead.

"So, I talked to Cliff today."

Okay. This is not the way he pictured this conversation starting, but he'll take it.

"...Oh. Okay."

"Yeah."

She's placed her mug on the counter beside her now and has her arms folded across her chest. She's looking at him and for the first time in a long time, probably since he's known her, he can't read on her face how she feels. That scares him just a little bit. He presses forward.

"Okay. Umm... W-what did he say?"

She lets out a curt laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, he said a lot of stuff."

"Like?"

"Well," she says, adjusting her glasses on her face, "outside of the fact that he basically called me untrustworthy, he told me that he always suspected that I had feelings for you."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Do you?"

"Do I what, Danny? Let's use of our words here."

He watches his thumb run up the side of his cup before meeting her eyes once more. Sitting back in his chair, he continues.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "Haven't we already gone through this, Castellano? I mean, I was just making out with you against my front door like twenty minutes ago. We haven't even been on a first date yet and I've allowed you to get a taste of this," she says motioning up and down her body with a wide smile. "I think it's safe to say I have more than a few feelings for you."

In this moment, a small insecurity slips out before he can catch it. "I just wanted to make sure, because before we were kind of caught up in the moment and..."

"And what?"

His eyes snap up at her. She's still. Waiting.

Fuck it, he's here now. He might as well keep going.

"I'm just saying, before, our emotions were running on high and we just kind of fell into each other-"

"Fell into each other?" she scoffs, "Oh my god, Danny, you're an gynecologist, you can say sex-"

"Okay,  _when he had sex_. In our timeline of being intimate"- this garners another eye roll from her, followed by a laugh- "there could have been a time where those feelings changed. I mean, I did catch you trying to sneak out of my apartment the next morning."

She quiets again for a moment, her eyes boring into his. "Is that what this is about?" she asks softly. "Me leaving?"

And how can he say it's not? Well, it's not all about that. But it mostly is. He'd rather her just tell him now that she doesn't want this and not leave him hanging on. Get this all out definitely and he can move on. Yes, that would be a critical hit and God knows he's had enough of those and he doesn't know if he could survive one from her but he'd try.

Who's he kidding. Look at him this week when she just needed some space and he was hanging in the unknown. A definite "no" from her would be the end for him.

He clears his throat. "I mean, you did say you didn't know before. I just want to know if... if that thought still stands."

She's takes a step toward him but stops, as if she needs the distance to get out what she needs to say.

"You know, Danny? Today, I got stuck on an elevator."

"What? Where? Are you okay? How did-"

"I'm fine," she says putting her hand up. "I was coming back from meeting Cliff and I was practically racing back to the practice to get back to you to tell you that him and I were done. That I only wanted you, even though I was terrified. Because I am terrified, and I honestly don't know when that will change."

He feels like his chest is exploding. This is it then. This is... He runs his hand down his face and lets out an exhale. She doesn't...  _fuck._

"O-okay," he swallows. He turns around to grab his jacket and is putting it on when her voice stops him. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Mindy, you clearly don't want this, so I'm just-"

"Wait, Danny, I never said that. I'm not finished." She's moving closer to him now until she's right in front of him. He can't look at her, so instead he just looks at the ground.

"Danny," she sighs, "I am absolutely freaking out about this. You're not just some guy to me. You're... you're my best friend. You're my co-worker. You're the first person I text when they give me a free pastry at Starbucks, and most times it's even before I text Gwen. You're not like any of the guys before you. You're- something else. Something better. The fact that even after knowing me, even after knowing I don't cook and I rarely work out and I love Katy Perry and I don't really understand Wes Anderson movies, you still want to be with me- that's scary to me."

She steps closer to him now and reaches her hands out to thread their fingers together. "But... that's also liberating. I don't have to hide around you. I can be myself completely, I don't have to put on an act. Of course I'm terrified, and that's because I don't want to ruin this. I don't want to mess this up and ruin our friendship. But that doesn't mean I don't want to at least try it out."

* * *

She hopes he can't tell she's holding her breath right now, because she is. She's said what she's had to say but he hasn't said anything and he hasn't looked at her. But he also hasn't moved away or parted their hands, so that's a good sign.

She hopes.

She watches him a moment more before she pipes up.

"Danny? Danny... say something." She lifts her palm to his cheek and lifts his head. "Hey. Hey...look at me."

The eyes gazing back at her are not the normal ones. She can track Danny's emotions pretty easily, but there's something else here that she's never seen and she doesn't know if that's a good thing or not. She starts to speak again, but when he starts to move into her space, the words get caught in her throat. He's pressed up against her now, lifting his own palm to her face and rethreading their other hands. His voice is low when he speaks.

"I visited my Ma today."

Of course. That makes so much sense. She feels like such an idiot for not thinking he would go there. Duh, Lahiri.

"Is that where you were while I was waiting at your place for almost three hours?" she asks, leaning further into his touch. He nods. "I'm so sorry about that by the way. If I knew you were waiting, I'd have come back a lot sooner. I want you to know that. You know I'd never leave you waiting somewhere like that." She shrugs and encourages him to go on. He slides a hand around her waist.

"You know, she gave me some really good advice."

"Yeah? And what was that?"

"She..." he sighs, "She told me to stop being so scared and tell you that I'm in love with you. I... want this. I _want you._ ""

If she wasn't holding her breath before, she definitely is now.

"W-what?" she stutters.

She feels him run his thumb over her cheekbone, and he's looking down at her under those long lashes and she can't really breathe right now. A lot is happening and a lot is being said and she just-

"Yeah. I... I want this, Min. Have for a while."

And it's like all of the pieces fall into place right in that point in time. Clarity striking her. Both of them are scared but despite that, they both want this so badly and that's worth fighting for. The ups and downs of this entire week, their kiss on the plane, all the little moments they've shared in hotel rooms and the lounge, over salads and sandwiches, over shots of tequila, in cab rides through the city and walks in the Village- they have all built up to this one right here: him holding her so close, saying those words that she didn't know she wanted to hear until right now. It's a different kind of fall than she's ever taken, than it ever was with Cliff or Casey or Josh. This is how it's supposed to be, she realizes. It's supposed to mean this much. It's supposed to be this honest.

It's supposed to be this guy right here.

Before she knows it, they're right back to where they were instances ago- pressed into each other, lips seeking lips. It's frantic and rushed and right on time. She reaches her hands up around his neck and pulls him closer to her.

"I love you," she whispers against his lips. He runs a hand up the back of her neck and deepens their kiss, tongue and lips saying all the things they can't find words for, his other hand snaking around to her backside, crushing her hips into his. They stay like that for while, trading silent declarations between them, until she feels the need to pull away. She needs to know. She pushes him away softly, watching him take a breath, running his tongue over his lips before he breaks into a soft smile. She almost tempted to pull him back, but she has something very important to ask.

"So... what does this mean?" she says with an exhale, adjusting her glasses on her face.

He lets out his own breath.

"It means... let's try this thing. I'm all in, Min."

"Yeah?"

He nods and steps back into her. And even though she can feel that fear of messing this all up coursing through her veins, she makes a promise then and there to spend however long it takes to make sure they make this work. He's what she wants.

"I'm all in too, Danny. I'm all in, too."

/

_You're the only thing I want,_

_and I said I wouldn't cry about it._

_This is the last time._


End file.
